"It just doesn't look right," Iris said, wringing her hands. Meghan couldn't take her eyes off those hands. She didn't think she'd ever seen anyone actually wring their hands before.
I plant seeds like prayers
Inside a glass box, on a small pedestal, a sculpture of a green woman calls to me.
The Manic Pixie Dream Girl does not exist in the wild.
It seemed ironic to be craving a book titled ‘The Lonely City’ in the middle of March.
Jia Tolentino has been dubbed the spokesperson for the millennial mindset.
I think I owe a thank you to the girl with long black hair - twisted and clipped up in seminars, trailing down her back in dresses and up my nose when she lay next to me at night.
Tennis Lessons is an incredibly relatable, poignant portrait of young womanhood.
The gymnast’s mother worked on Minoan Crete, and she loved it the way the gymnast once loved gymnastics. She even dressed like it.
There is a painting of a woman called Blanche Wittmann by Brouillet. It’s called ‘A Clinical Lesson at the Salpêtrière’ (1887) and represents an imaginary scene of a contemporary scientific demonstration, based on real life, depicting the eminent French neurologist Jean-Martin Charcot (1825-1893) delivering a clinical lecture and demonstration at the Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital in Paris. Blanche, the hysteric in question, is a woman alone in a room full of men and she is both subject and object. I am very uncomfortable looking at this painting and draw on this in my novel, Saving Lucia.